


ache (crescent moons)

by hiroshimalovers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5480126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiroshimalovers/pseuds/hiroshimalovers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever told Poe that winning still leaves you fucked up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ache (crescent moons)

**Author's Note:**

> pls talk to me about Poe and Finn @ nerdarsenal on tumblr  
> (basically a Poe character study bc I love making my favs sad)

The fact that the Resistance won doesn’t diminish the fact that Poe’s head doesn’t feel steady and confident (anymore. anymore. did it ever at all?).  It doesn’t get rid of the feeling of Kylo Ren in his mind, prying, and pushing, and seeing, and taking far too much.

 

(he knows -- he has to know --  the secrets that Poe has buried, doesn’t even think about himself, _where did they go where did they go where did they go_ , because he knows some of the answers but not all of them, _i lost them i lost them i lost them_ and it’s not enough, it’s never enough)

 

(he’s only enough to everyone except for himself)

 

In the middle of the night, he jolts awake and it feels like Kylo Ren is still in his mind. He knew that the force could be used in such a way, but Poe never imagined that it would be on him, and he never imagined that it would leave such a trace. He never imagined that it could mean shaking hands in the morning, and dried tears at midnight, and breathing out relief every time he sat for a moment and felt safe in the confines of his X-Wing.  

 

Sometimes Poe asks himself why it happened, but he knows it was nothing personal. He was invaded for intel, and he was touched with nothing more than the consideration of a useless object. What pervades his thoughts is not objectively true, and he knows this. He knows, logically, that he is one of the best if not the best fighter pilot for the resistance. He knows, logically, that he is useful to the resistance. He knows, logically, that he is worth something. He doesn’t really believe it.

 

Unfortunately, he also knows that long lost baggage can pop up at the most inconvenient of times, like when General Leia asks him about what he knows, and when he’s ready to fly again. Like when he walks past the medbay at 8:58 at night and hears a voice that sounds too familiar. Like when he glances at his hands and sees the four crescent moon scars across his knuckles. It’s not on purpose, but it happens.

 

(Leia says _are you okay_ and he says _yes_ and then it is all plans plans plans but he can’t help the images of trees falling and his mother asking _are you okay_ and he says _yes_ and oh god he tried to forget this years ago because next comes the smell of smoke and flashes of white and he tried so hard to forget)

 

(There’s a reason why he’s a great pilot. Part of it is instinct. Part of it is necessity. And part of it is practice. And two thirds of that would never have been achieved without warm hands guiding his own and suddenly they were gone and he was alone at controls at an age too young. It’s necessity that drives him. He may not believe in himself but if someone needs him, who is he to say no)

 

(The medbay isn’t something he’ll think about. He’s not ready. He’s not strong enough to remember)

 

(He has matching scars, four, crescent moon, on his ribcage to compare but no one ever sees those. It’s just the knuckles. He says the scars are from a fistfight the first time he went to Coruscant. He wishes they were, but instead he thinks about the way his jaw used to ache and the silent silent pain that he used to carry in his bones. He doesn’t know whether it ebbed away or he just got used to it. He doesn’t know when he started to think he deserved it)

 

Poe wants to curse Kylo Ren but he knows that it all was never really anyone's fault but his own. It’s not anyone's fault but his own, but he keeps that knowledge buried deep and keeps the memories buried deeper but they won’t stay down, and his mind just circles.

 

It’s so quiet at midnight. It’s quiet at two am. A door slams at three am. It’s still not quiet in Poe’s mind but he tries to sleep. Maybe he will have the fortune to forget.

 

He is never going to forget, but he wishes he could when he thinks of Finn and thinks of the shining good in the man, thinks of how much he will mean to the galaxy. Thinks of how much he means to him. Really, how was Poe supposed to know that Finn would look so damn good in his jacket?

 

It was for Finn that he stepped in the medbay at 6:21 pm. For FN-2187. For a stormtrooper who got him out alive, for a man who grinned brighter than the sun, for a man who laughed and it felt better than blowing up the starkiller.

 

For a second, Poe couldn’t breathe but it wasn’t that bad. Missions came and went, Poe came and went, but he kept on catching his breath escaping and Finn kept on lying there. Poe still feels like his chest is going to cave in on him, and Kylo Ren is still in his head, poking around and ripping knowledge, and he can’t control anything that he wants to. He wants Finn to wake up. He wants to feel like the resistance won. He wants to feel like he won. He wants Finn to wake up.

 

Finn didn’t wake up.

  
Finn _didn’t wake up._


End file.
